


Courting Kings

by ThalassicThedes (50niftiesus)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Courtship, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sports, The King's Daughters Are Here For A Good Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:15:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50niftiesus/pseuds/ThalassicThedes
Summary: One of the King’s daughters is being pursued by some annoyingly persistent admirers, but she only seems to tolerate one. This is the story of Sigrid.





	1. The Inn

**Author's Note:**

> I’m the idiot who pitched this story and ultimately said, “fuck whatever else I got going on, I’ll do it myself,” so you know… enjoy.
> 
> (This also my first CP story so it’d be cool if you keep your expectations as low as possible and ignore all of my hockey fics, ok thx.)
> 
> My normal filter squad have lives now so all mistakes are mine. I take full responsibility for whatever trauma my errors may cause you.

It was in moments such as this where she felt truly pathetic. Of all things to be fatigued of road travel ought not to be one of them. Now, surely sneaking off under the cover of darkness and discarding your tracks to keep your camp from being discovered perhaps contributed to such weariness. Sleep would be nice. The notion alone was an enchantment. 

Out in the cool night air, the soft breeze and twirling lush wheat fields all seemed to lull her to sleep.

Sigrid felt herself shoved violently to the side alarming her senses, causing her to tighten the grip of her legs around her horse.

“Stay the fuck awake, Siggy,” Frona hissed beside her, “You were swaying off your horse.” 

Though she was right, Sigrid still punched her thigh in retaliation. 

She smiled at Frona’s cursing, “Where's this damn inn we're to rest at?”

“I can see the glow from town, we shouldn't be long,” Hele responded from the head of the group. She rode alongside Adria, her lover of many years. They were long proclaimed to be of one spirit, eternally linked in a bond of mutual support and companionship. The sex is good too, if the noise was any indication. Sigrid is glad for her sister.

“Oh, a warm roast would be a delight to the senses,” Mina dreamily stated.

Laetitia giggled, “You and your cravings, sister. Just have a bit of dry meat to calm your belly.”

“Those dry, bitter, strips of carpet Frona prepared would suck all nourishment from my body. No, thank you.”

Mina cried out after Frona chucked a coin pouch at her head, “I hope all that inn has is soggy porridge, you ungrateful gourmand.” 

Hele, “Quiet! We are approaching.”

All road through the sleepy town square, streets surprisingly void of any whores or drunkards as was usual given the late hour. 

Sigrid imagined any town located along a major road towards the capital would be bustling with activity, nevermind that there were tournaments soon to be held at the palace. “Didn't know Ilion was so quaint.” 

“Maybe there’s a curfew,” Mina theorized.

 

After handing their horses to a stable hand, they made their way inside the inn. Turns out the city wasn't quaint, just kept indoors. The dining hall was filled with rowdy travelers and house escorts. It made for a jolly ambiance as everyone lost themselves in the drunken merriment of a soldier's tune. Mina got her meal of roasted lamb and fresh bread once Leatitia chatted up a few migrant workers to clear space at their table. Frona sat stiffly beside her, eyeing every man who engaged her with suspicion. 

Hele and Sigrid approached the innkeeper at the front desk to secure rooms for the night. She was a middle-aged woman who bore a resemblance to the serving boy and less fair kitchen maid; a family run operation then. 

She greeted the two sister's with a tired grin, “Welcome, how may I be of service this evening?”

Hele, “Good evening ma’am. You appear busy tonight, are there any rooms left?”

Her expression became apologetic, “You've a large group. I'm afraid I can only spare you a single- but extra blankets may be provided! You see the ladies reserve rooms to provide their... services. I cannot budge. Sorry miss.”

The slight twitch of her eye was the only sign Hele was displeased, “Why not take the next step and declare yourselves a brothel?” She turned to Sigrid and shrugged, “It'll have to do.”

None of the girls would care. They'd slept among sacks of manure in the back of a soggy wagon. And once in a prison cell before pleading diplomatic immunity. Sigrid certainly didn't mind, renting out to prostitutes by the hour was likely the inn’s primary source of revenue.

Sigrid looked around for a familiar face before leaning forward on the desk, she spoke low, “Has a young man by the name of, ‘Philippe,’ come by?”

The woman knit her brows, “No, miss.” She then whispered, “Should I alert you if he does?”

Sigrid shook her head, “No, he's probably running late. Or not showing up at all, as would be proper. Thank you for your hospitality.”

She turned to Hele who stood idly by leaning on one foot.

“So, ‘Phil’ won't be gracing us with his presence? Good, maybe we'll actually sleep.”

“The stripling is late, obviously. He's always eager to see us.”

Hele only nods, “Come. I must tell Adria that we'll be without privacy for the night. Again.” 

The girls ate and conversed companionably among the other guests only having to set a few handsy individuals straight. Laetitia had attempted more than once to present a few of her new male friends to Hele and Adria knowing full well of their intent in coming to the celebratory games, but the couple graciously declined. 

Their fathers may not know now but the rest of the girls were excited to become aunts. Hele and Adria have their hearts set on ing daughters together. Many in the clan thought them ready and strong, no one doubted they would make fine mothers. Though all in the tribe participate in the raising of young warriors, Sigrid didn’t see rearing children in her future anytime soon. She has witnessed many pregnancies and thought the whole experience unpleasant. 

“Philippe didn’t make it?” Sigrid turned to where Mina had whispered. She was met with a small frown.

“I’m afraid he’s been delayed.”

“In the letters, I was so sure- I think he needs us.”

“For?” 

Her face was scrunched in confusion, “I don’t know.” Mina perked up after a long stretch of silence, “Are you excited to see father and papa again? I think both will be very enthused for your first Okton. Wait,” she seemed to remember something. “What sport will you be competing in beforehand?”

Only victors in their respective categories were allowed to compete in the Okton. 

“I love our visits and only hope to be deemed a worthy contender. I chose javelin.” Sigrid answered. 

Mina nodded, “A warm-up for the main event. Excellent strategy. I have all the faith in you, though I make no wagers.”

“You warm me, sister, but you’re wise to not place bets on me.”

At this Mina arched her brow, “You mean to participate only to lose?”

“I’m just not sure how well I’ll fair. It’s not like we can scout our competition to see what they’re capable of.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Sigrid was four when she and her sisters had first met their father, Damianos Exalted, they’ve since visited the palace at Delpha at the start of spring each year. Her first impression was that he was tall and smiled often. Then she noticed his short curls were like those of Frona’s, his eyes like Hele’s, his skin the complexion of Mina's. 

Before, Vask was all the girls knew and so they couldn’t understand Akeilon. Vannes, the ambassador to Vask who had escorted them on their initial journey, had shown them formal greetings in Veretian. Their father had kneeled before them in the hall they were presented in, with eyes of wonderment. Not many words were exchanged before King Laurent had intervened and welcomed them in accented Vaskian. The rest of their visit was filled with picnics in the gardens, lessons in horse riding, learning strange customs, intimate family dinners, and nearly nightly readings of the epics of famed Akeilon heroes. It had seemed as though the two Kings had put off ruling as much as they were able to afford to comfort them. 

By the end of their stay, Sigrid and her sisters could butcher conversational Veretian. 

They were all very young when the negotiations were made. It is to Sigrid’s understanding that someone had convinced the Kings an heir was needed to further unify the two former rival nations, to solidify their rule and give its citizens hope in what was once an uncertain future for the new kingdom. The ceremonial games are held annually to commemorate the alliance. This year there’s much to anticipate as the Kings are expected to make a grand announcement though it is likely the worst kept secret in Artes. 

Upstairs the girls had finally settled to sleep. 

Then there was a crash through the balcony doors.

Mina pulled two daggers from her boots and threw one into the dark at the intruder.

“Ha! You’ve nailed my hood to the floor.”

He truly had the worst timing.

“Leandré?”

“Yes! It is I, ‘Philippe.’ Now turn a lamp on!”

Frona lit a lamp and tossed it to the fireplace, “Voilà, now you can see.”

The boy was heaving. The hood of his cloak was indeed nailed to the wooden floor.

His look of tired exasperation immediately found Mina, “Did you not get my letters?”

“Your ciphers were all wrong, I couldn’t understand any of it,” she replied defensively.

His eyes rolled as he gaged the room and smiled, “It’s great to see you all.” 

Every litter has its runt.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Children Return Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty bummed lately so please enjoy. Sorry if it's still not as exciting or if its lacking in detail, but i've cut this chapter short.

“Shouldn’t you be meeting us at the checkpoint? What’s the point in being a prince if you ignore all formalities?” 

“Well Frona, forgive me if I was anxious to see my sisters after a whole year.”

Leandré Augustine of Artes was the solution to the heir debacle. There have been many queens in both Akeilon and Veretian history but Halvik thought it fair to send the only boy rather than lose prospective warriors and evoke jealousy among the siblings left behind. This decision ultimately saved his life. He was a sickly thing during his early years likely caused by the medicinal herbs his mother took to alleviate pain during her pregnancy. She hadn’t lived long following his birth and so he took milk from his sister’s mothers. 

Upon that first visit to introduce the King to his children, the royal physician, Paschal looked him over and had concluded that, under proper care, the boy would grow strong. Halvik was aware of the male tribes tendency towards infanticide when a child was thought of as too weak. And so when the girls left, it was without their brother.

Hele stood before him and yanked Mina’s dagger from the ground, freeing her brother from the floor. She grabbed his arm and clasped his back when he stood, “Brother, it is good to see you.”

He smiled, “Oh, how I’ve missed you. All of you.” 

Sigrid was curious, “Why’d you enter through the balcony?”

“The innkeeper locked me out. She said, ‘No one here is awaiting a Philippe.’”

“And how’d you evade the royal guards?”

Their fathers were especially protective of their Crown Prince. When Leandré was just fourteen there was a coup from one of the Exalted’s former lovers to put their cousin on the throne. King Laurent was wise enough to monitor her activity and the whole ordeal was quickly resolved. Both mother and son have since been exiled. It was the siblings first taste of a true battle that hadn’t involved raiders or border skirmishes. 

“I had one of my guards play decoy.”

“And you’ve brought no one to protect you?”

“Deion is currently utilizing one the the rooms…”

“Ah. Well, some of the girls were certainly tempting.”

“It was the serving boy.”

“Him too.”

Silence befell the room as Leandré was thinking something, “Perhaps we should wait for him to finish?”

Adria, “What? No. You disturb my sleep and not his fucking?”

“You are right. Come along everyone! He’s in room four on the first floor.” 

After collecting an irate and unsatisfied Deion the group road west just past the outskirts of Illion to the prince’s small camp. The sky was still dark. 

“We were supposed to meet on these fields tomorrow morning but I figured to start the family bonding early.” Leandré says as they gather around the campfire. 

Frona took a swig from from her goatskin before passing to Leatitia, “I’ve got nothing new to share.”

Leatitia, “I’ve ended my dalliance with the merchant’s apprentice from Dice.”

“I’m sure he took things well.”

“I believe he’s married a seamstress and they’ve settled in Patras.” Leatitia passes the skin to Hele.

Leandré looked to her expectantly. She swallowed her gulp, “Congratulations, brother. You’re soon to be an uncle.”

Shock and felicity filled his expression, “Really? Do I know the father?”

“No, our daughters are yet to be conceived. The men who serve by the fire weren’t adequate.” 

Leandré nodded in understanding. He spoke in softly accented Vaskian, “I cannot fault you in being too careful with whom you procreate.”

Sigrid found the skin passed to her. After her swallow she said, “I've trained all year for the Okton.”

“That's wonderful! You know I'm to compete in our father's stead though I'm no threat to you. Your performance is sure to make Father and Papa proud.”

Sigrid knew his words to be genuine. There's no falsehood among the siblings, only honesty. And it was widely known how much Leandré admired his sisters.

“Thank you, brother. I hope I do.” She passes the skin to Mina. 

At the sight of Mina fidgeting, Leandré prompted, “Have you filled your journal? I brought some empty field books in case you have.”

She tucked a wayward strand of hair from her face, “That is kind of you. I have five pages left.”

“Impressive. What was it? Four hundred pages?”

“It's been some years and they're mostly filled with samples and illustrations.”

“I’m sure Paschal will make good use of your research. Do you need more ink? Some knew quills?”

She smiled, “Papa supplied me well, I think I'll manage.”

At last, the skin made its way to Leandré, “Guess it's my turn. Both our fathers thought it fit to announce my engagement to Princess Alesia of Patras to commence this year's ceremonial games.” 

The Crown Prince Leandré and Princess Alesia of Patras have long been betrothed. It was a push on Artes behalf to promote the abolishment of slavery in their closest neighbor and ally. The Kings were initially against subjecting their only son to a political marriage so an eight year courtship was arranged for the two young royals. This was why the announcement was no surprise.

Frona, “It's totally unnecessary to announce. All in the three kingdoms know of your betrothal.”

Leandré shrugged his broad shoulders, “Consider it another excuse for all to drink til they've soiled themselves.”

“Do you love her?” Asked Leatitia curiously.

He tilted his head and looked to the ground, a few unruly curls escaped his braided crown. After some quiet contemplation, he smiled, “I'm sure.” In moments where his fondness revealed itself, he truly resembled his father. He met Leatitia's eyes, “She's very sweet and has a kind heart, you’re sure to love her.” 

Sigrid was glad for her brother too.

The next day, the small camp was being dismantled for their journey. 

“Siggy! Come quick!”

It was Mina. Sigrid unsheathed her sword and ran to her side. 

Mina startled and clasped her arms. “Stop! Put your sword away, you'll scare them.”

It was then that Sigrid had noticed that Mina was drawing in her journal. She heard low squawks and looked up the tree beside them. It was a sparrow frantically flying the small perimeter.

“He's courting the female in the tree. He's looking for food to give his mate.”

The sparrow flew back around, this time with his beak full, to meet his mate atop a branch.

Mina smiled at the scene, “Go get your girl, young sparrow.”

The ride to the palace would've been shorter had the surrounding townsfolk not been alerted their prince and his famed warrior sisters were on their way. The streets were crowded to the utmost capacity. Sounds of wellwishers and greeting roars filled the air. Sigrid tried to keep up with her greetings for though Leandré was the chosen heir, his sisters were still treated as royals. Their fathers had made it clear many years ago that they were to be treated with respect, as soon as they entered the country they were princesses. 

Leandré lost his ragged cloak and wore his purple silk cape in the Akeilon fashion, trimmed with gold. It represented the two kingdoms united. Red and blue. His crest was a lions head at the center of a star. He was the physical embodiment of Artes and their hopes for a continuously prosperous future. Blue for his Majesty, red for Exalted, and purple for his Highness. Small flags of all three waved in vigor to welcome the small party. His custom gold circlet was designed to mimic a laurel, but stylized in its closed shape. 

He sat tall and waved a gracious hand, “I hope to see you all at the games!”

“Congrats on your engagement, your Highness!” One man yelled.

He put a playful finger to his lips in a shushing motion, “Keep quiet, I'm not engaged yet my good man!” He smiled wide and youthful so the man knew there was no offense.

Sigrid new her brother to grow increasingly charismatic the more nervous he was. Always nervous, always a charmer. Commoners adored him. 

At a snail's pace they've made it to the palace gates.

“Make way for the prince!”

The gates were lifted to reveal rows of the royal guard. Sigrid grew excited at the thought of who was waiting to welcome them on the palace steps.

Forgetting all formalities, Leatitia broke into a full gallop. Hele, huffing in fond exasperation, quickly followed as did the rest. They stopped in front of two resplendent figures when Laetitia, again forgetting they're in public and that there were social standards to be met, nearly jumped at King Laurent. Hele quickly dismounted her horse to intervene, “Lae-Lae, formalities!”

Laetitia unwound her arms and stepped back a few feet before bowing a deep, practised curtsey, just as fine as any palace lady, “Forgive me, Papa.” She peeked at Laurent for approval, he nodded and opened his arms, “Embrace me my daughters.” The Veretian King was soon crushed by a hoard of mountain warriors. Damianos let out a deep chuckle before encircling his long arms around them, “My sweet Lae-Lae, how I've missed you.” 

Sigrid catches up to the happy scene as Leandré joins the hug, “An escort fathers? Do you seriously doubt us capable of finding our way safely?”

“And Leandré is not a particularly lethal guardian,” Frona interjected. 

Their brother took the teasing in jest, “No, I'm not the best. Simply good enough to kill and avoid being killed. That's all you need.”

“And neither is he particularly sly,” Laurent broke in, tone hard.

Leandré sighed, “Papa-"

“Don't. You’re about as discreet as your father. Did you really think word would not get back at me about using Faenus as a decoy? Hm, ‘Philippe?’”

He muttered under his breath, “Still less obvious than ‘Lamen.’" 

“At the very least he had Deion to accompany him,” Damen chose to pretend as though he hadn’t heard to calm his husband. 

“Father I'm not a weak boy anymore. I don't need to be coddled!”

Even when Leandré had thought he was alone, he wasn't. He had an entire network of guards undercover under direct orders of his father's watchful eyes. 

Damen, “Enough of this, we're to enjoy our time as a family.” He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Everyone is to rest before attending the feast tonight.”

There was no arguing with father when he used that tone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter introduces the birdboy! :D


	3. A Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family filler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels long and poorly written. Enjoy!

It was easier to settle once servants were involved. The girls packed lightly knowing new wardrobes were provided and their rooms had been prepped in advanced. After a moment's rest, the girls were dressing themselves to attend the feast. 

It was Leatitia who had suggested the girls try on traditional Veretian gowns.

“This corset is suffocating! And my breasts are hardly covered. It's like they're on a serving platter.” 

Sigrid opted for laced pants and a loose wrap that draped over her shoulders instead. 

Hele and Adria were discussing the versatility of traditional Vaskian wool cloth with Mina while Leatitia poured Frona and herself a drink of water. A knock interrupted their chatter.

“Girls, are you decent?” 

Mina recognized the voice,“Is that uncle Nik?” 

The girls were soon greeted by a familiar face in Nikandros, long-time friend and closest advisor to their father Damen. 

He was freshly washed and adorned in a long silk chiton commonly worn for occasions that called for relaxation. Thin braids held his long curls in place and his thick beard was likely the envy of prepubescent boys all across the land. Their father had briefly sported a beard. Papa Laurent had humored him for a bit before admitting he preferred to see his dimple.

Sigrid smiled, “How kind of you to visit us, kyros.”

Nikandros, “So formal with me now, Sigrid? I've volunteered escort you ladies to the feast tonight.”

Sigrid heard a sharp gasp followed by a shatter. She felt her boots soak up like a sponge.

Frona, “Lea-Lae, you lummox! Get your head out from between your legs.”

Sigrid looked to see her sister flushed as dark as plum, skirts soaked through her petticoat. She looked mortified, “I am sorry, Siggy. You can borrow my slippers!”

Nikandros gazed upon her fondly as Leatitia ran across the room to her retrieve her slippers from a large chest. They were soft and thin with no ankle support, obviously serving no other purpose than style. Sigrid’s only other option was her riding boots, which even if they hadn't been mucked in mud, would have still been very inappropriate. She felt short. As soon as Laetitia changed from her gown into a less restrictive but more revealing chiton, they were all set to leave. 

The girls typically all held hands, a habit formed during their first visits. Their father had told them to hold hands to avoid anyone getting lost in the vast empty halls of the palace. Sigrid remembers being very young and observing their fathers constantly holding hands and thought they must've been frightened at the thought of losing one another.

Nikandros offered Leatitia his arm, “Thank you, Nik. Will Lady Kenna also be attending?” 

“Yes, my wife will be attending. I'm afraid the children will have to retire early if they're to tour the training camps tomorrow morning.”

Lady Kenna was a former advisor of sorts to a high Akeilon noblewoman. Their marriage was a night gone wrong turned to romance. She was beautiful. Straight silk black hair that reached below her hips, large doe eyes, her form graceful and slim. Of course, though it was her looks that had won Nik over enough for one night, she had other admirable qualities of character that made her an ideal wife to any man. She was a huge gossip who adored planning parties, but also fiercely loyal to her husband and a nurturing mother to her children. With Lady Kenna by his side, there was probably never a dull moment in uncle Nik’s life. 

She was the first woman Sigrid had ever felt yearnings for.

At the entrance of the dining hall, Lady Kenna was quickly spotted speaking with their brother near the head of the table where their fathers sat, lost in their own private conversation. Delegates and courtesans of the like filled the room.

As with all occasions involving royalty, formalities were exchanged, speeches were made, and wine was drunk. A feast was a feast. Piles of food that never shrunk, cups were never empty, and every joke grew more amusing with each passing sip. 

 

Sigrid had awoken the next day on a lounge chair in what she recognized to be her rooms. The grogginess she could bear but the foul taste in her mouth, she could not. Her mouth tasted like what a rodent's rotten corpse smells. 

She washed her mouth at the basin. After noticing the late positioning of the sun, she felt a spike of panic that she'd wasted her whole morning. She inquired a servant for the time and was immediately relieved there was still time for a meal.

“His Majesty Laurent, Damianos-Exalted, and His Highness are expecting you to join them for breakfast in the gardens,” the servant informed.

“A family breakfast? I suppose a quick meal and some small talk shouldn't take too long. Thank you, you're excused.”

It had seemed as though everyone could nurse their hangovers far better than Sigrid. Upon her arrival to the outside veranda, everyone appeared fresh and polished; ready to start their days and exchange familiar pleasantries. Once she caught a closer glimpse she noticed the iron tea. 

Leandré was the first to see her approach, “Siggy! At long last, she has risen to bring glory to our house and to honor us with her mighty victory.”

“Oh, do shut up,” she chided as she pulled up a seat. “Good morning, Papa,” she leaned over to peck Laurent’s cheek. “Good morning, Father,” she says to Damen who was out of reach.

Damen smiled sunnily, “My heart, I’m glad you could join us.”

Laurent’s smile was smaller but equal in its affection,“Darling, what was your brother babbling on about?” 

Leandré was going to start however Sigrid beat him to it, “Well, you must know by now that I’m participating in the Okton this year. I’m sure he’s just teasing.”

Damen looked a tad reminiscent as he leaned on his fist, “Seems like yesterday you were competing in youth archery. Practically stumbling with your big bow and stubby legs.”

Laurent clasped his bicep in consolidation, “There, husband. We’re soon to be grandfathers and our only son is practically engaged. I’m only surprised Lea-Lae hasn’t eloped with that Patran merchant and Mina hasn’t been lured by nymphs to live in the woods.”

Lea-Lea only shrugged.

Sigrid laughed, “And what is to become of Frona?”

“She’ll inherit my network of spies, of course. Someone must look after your brother.”

Frona, “I’d prefer more of a symbolically useless, secretly advisory role.”

Leandré was morose, “Papa, surely I’m not entirely helpless?”

“No, my boy. They’re only precautions,” he pinched his cheek and patted his hair. “You are cared for because you are loved.”

“And brother, it is as Mina says, ‘A lack of specification leads to a lack of mastery,’ you’re mediocrity is due to your broad interests,” Hele sagely sounded from the end of the table. 

“But your broad interests give you an open mind,” Adria was quick to add.

Damen jostled Leandré’s shoulder, “You’re our perfect heir.”

“Where is Mina?”

Sigrid’s question seemed to break the moment, she was curious.

“She’s wandered off, per usual,” Laurent took a sip from his chalice. “Be sure to fetch her for the Patran arrivals. For all her meekness, she is exceptionally well versed in Patran schools of thought. The princess is a fan, she’s sure to make her feel welcome.”

Sigrid nods in obedience and makes way to leave before Damen interrupts, “Siggy, what are your plans for the day?”

She sat back down, “I was going for a quick tour through the training encampments, thought it best to train and meet with other competitors.”

Damen grinned with something akin to pride, “We’ll be busy within the next few days, but don’t hesitate to call on us to spar or even for a ride-”

“Father! I understand,” she smiled. “I’ll be on my way now.”

She knew it wasn’t impossible for her fathers to spare a sliver of their time. Training with her fathers was one of her most golden memories. In the girl’s hyperactive youth, Laurent had constructed a whole obstacle course to tire them out. They’d spend hours chasing each other through swings and tunnels before falling fast asleep after a cool bath.

Hele and Adria rose in unison.

“If you’ll excuse us, fathers. We’d like to accompany Siggy to the training area.”

Sigrid had to chew the inside of her cheek to keep from noisily expressing her glee. She knew full well what those two were after.

Their fathers bid them leave.

 

The whistling and hollering was expected walking onto a field of young men in their supposed sexual prime. Watching them trip over their apologies after being informed who they were caused some enjoyment.

A majority of their attention fell on Hele with her golden essence and Adria a quiet grace, shadowing her. Sigrid noticed the couple’s assessing gazes as if shopping for a new horse.

Hele hadn’t liked what she saw,“Their attentions bore me. While their physical statures are worthy of prospect, I do not wish for my daughters to be dumb. What use is her strength if she stumbles onto her own blade?”

They strolled pass a small city of tents as men bowed before them.

Sigrid couldn't help but notice one young man whose back had some splatter of white and green.

She strayed back, losing sight of Hele and Adria.

The man noticed she stopped in front of him and slowly rose his head to meet her gaze. A sea of black silk waves parted to reveal his face. His eyes were green, as green as spring grass.

"Are you aware you've been thrown paint upon your back?" She raised a questioning brow.

A slight flush filled his caramel cheeks. 

"Xerxes gets nervous before competition, madam."

She detected hints of an accent in his Veretian, Sigrid doubted it was his first language.

"Do you often refer to yourself in the third person? What a strange superstition to splatter paint on your back."

She was aware of warriors, especially from commoner backgrounds, performing bizarre rituals with hopes to enhance their performance.

A disbelieving huff seemed to force its way out of him, "Xerxes is my bird, madam. We'll both be competing in falconry mid-day."

He had a charming smile.

"Well. Good luck,” Sigrid felt a sudden desperate urge to break eye contact. “And change your shirt," she added as an afterthought.

He nodded his head in gratitude, "I will. Thank you kindly, ma'am."

Sigrid did not dare to look back, but she had thought to ask Mina if she’d be interested in spectating a few bird competitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is encouraged.


	4. A Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scenes from the training grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing the in-between stuff of the main scenes but it just won't make sense if you don't include certain chains of events. Enjoy!

Her name was Serina. Her dance was hypnotic. She had all in audience entranced under her rhythmic spell.

Their eyes followed the razor-sharp edge of a bejeweled dagger as it traced the sensual curves of her body. But the dancer only had eyes for Sigrid.

The girl was hardly subtle. 

Sigrid simply stood from the ground and approached her. She took her hand and led her to her tent. 

Sigrid was surprised to find her incredibly pliant. The language barrier did put a damper on some things. Each time she made a motion to ask permission it only seemed to confuse Serina even further. She did look to be in want so Sigrid just dove right in to gently tease until she felt her hair being tugged. Sigrid had stopped teasing when finally Serina forced her down on her own volition. She felt triumph in what she accomplished. She licked and sucked until the thighs wrapped around her began to tremble. 

Siggy left with a good night's kiss and Serina left with unsteady legs. 

She later found out that she was a slave who was encouraged to bed the King’s daughter to gain her master favor in the court of Vask. 

Sigrid wishes she had freed her.

 

Horns sounded off in the distance.

The Patran envoy is arriving with their princess. 

Sigrid needed to find Mina. 

“Siggy! Wait for us!”

Frona and Laetitia were making their way towards her. It was fascinating to observe such outward differences in character from a distance. Where Frona moved stiffly with purpose, Laetitia moved languid and aimlessly, as if she’d go where the wind would take her.

Sigrid continued walking when they were close enough.

“So Chandell -remember that pale, gangly thing? Well, she-”

“Shut it! I’m in no want of her dreary company-”

“She’s shown interest in Frona!”

Sigrid was surprised. It was a rarity for anyone outside their immediate family to actively seek out Frona’s company. The androgynous quality her sister possessed with her sheep shorn hair hadn’t attracted her to any suitors. The men who did proposition her usually thought she was a boy. Not that men were her preference.

If she remembers well, Ms. Chandell hailed from the Northern coast of Marches. Icy winds and rugged coastal cliffs, it must’ve been an unfortunate setting for one’s childhood.

“So you’ve refused her?”

Frona nearly spat on the ground, “Yes! Veretian upper society women fetishize ‘barbarian warrior women.’ They want to be dominated without being abused physically. She just wants me to play man to her delicate damsel.” 

“You speak the truth.”

Had Chandell propositioned Laetitia, Sigrid doubts she’d have been rejected thusly.

“I’m surprised Diantha isn’t still clinging to your side after last night’s festivities, Lae-Lae.”

“Diantha. A golden flower, indeed,” her eyes seemed to gloss over. “I wouldn’t mind more time in her company these next coming weeks.”

Laetitia’s preferences fell to just about anyone who’d prefer her. Truly shocking she’s yet to come out with a child given the fact she lies with all sexes. Men, women, those who were in between.

“Have you caught a look at Xanthos, Siggy? This year’s wrestling matches ought to be very entertaining.”

Xanthos was a young commander with a promising future in his military career. He had the strong athletic physique marble sculptors would salivate over.

“Maybe we should lure him towards Hele and Adria. They’d certainly have better use for his spent seed.”

“I think Hele’s mentioned to a few candidates that whomever can last longest in the ring with her will receive an invite to her rooms.” 

That sounds like a declaration Hele would make.

Frona, “If men aren’t either of Hele’s or Adria’s inclination, how can she feel pleasure?”

Laetitia thought it over, “Hele and Adria will be together, you see, so even if the man proves incapable of finishing either off they’ll have what they wanted from him.”

“Men are helpless.”

Laetitia had to agree, “Simply being filled is unfulfilling if the man lacks skill. Only other women would know what you really want.”

Sigrid admitted this was true. In her past experience, she’s had to guide her male partners through her completion. Men were less difficult to navigate. She’s seen some become aroused from a gust of the wind. 

“Why do you lay with men then?”

“They’re easy.”

But everyone was easy for Lae-Lae.

What Sigrid enjoyed most from men was their eagerness and enthusiasm. The openly expressed gratitude on their slacked faces when she finally took them.

“Some men get silly ideas of superiority and entitlement. I’d sooner dismember those lot than have them so much as breathe on me.” 

“Those men lack honour. Castrating them would do all a great service.”

They finally broke through the treeline and entered the woods.

Laetitia, “I should stave off men, right Siggy?”

Flashes of emerald green entered her mind. “Whatever pleases you,” Sigrid grunted.

She heard a zip through the air and ducked. Frona unsheathed her sword and redirected an obsidian blade into the trunk of the a behind them. 

“Mina!” yelled Frona,

Much like the woodland creatures she studies so intently, Mina lept to the ground in a crouch.

“I assume the princess has arrived?”

“Yes, we must hurry before the introductions.” Sigrid honestly did not understand the need for such ceremony, but she supposes traditions are what ground a society and what not.

They quickly made haste across the field. Not necessarily running.

Sigrid could not be bothered with taking in her surroundings, but coming caught her attention. 

About five boys of both Veretian and Akeilon descent were playing a ball game with a soldier. Something about his back was familiar.

Laetitia noticed her slow down, “What are you looking at?”

Sigrid startled. Laetitia spotted the soldier and smirked knowingly.

“Hello there, soldier!”

Sigrid hisses, "What are you doing?"

“Oh, you don't know him? I can help you get to know him.”

“You don't need to-"

Laetitia spotted Xavier, one of Captain Jord’s superior officers, and hailed him over, “Xavier! I've some inquiries for you!”

Xavier jogged over from his post. He bows, “How may I be of service, ma'am?”

Her sister nods her head to the soldier's direction, “Who's that strapping, playful thing?”

Xavier turned to look, “Oh, him? I believe that's Dimitri of Bestiaux. A small rural community. His family raises cattle, I think. He's a bird boy. Why do you ask?” 

A bird boy? Sigrid craned her neck to get a look at his face.

Laetitia wrapped an arm around Sigrid’s shoulder, “Just curious, that's all.”

“I can show you his official reports if you're really curious,” said Xavier, ever eager to please.

“I don't think that will be necessary… unless there's something incriminating?”

Xavier shifted in place, “I'd like to say, firstly, that our soldiers are expected to uphold the standards placed by our Kings to honour our great nation. Now with that said, I'm aware of certain rumors, but they aren't for me to repeat."

Frona crosses her arms, “So you won't tell us anything?”

“I can provide documents with actual facts-"

“No one cares about where he's been stationed or what his performance reviews were."

“Ask around if you want gossip.”

Sigrid felt uneasy. It wasn't right to speak of him behind his back.

Frona, “How's Jord?”

Xavier pinked, “Captain is fine.”

Laetitia moistened her lips and looked him up and down, “I'm sure he is. You're dismissed.”

He retreated quietly.

“Are they really fucking?” asked Sigrid.

Frona, “Probably.”

Sigrid gave a final glance to the bird boy, Dimitri, his eyes full of laughter, his dark tousled hair bouncing with every movement.

He must've sensed eyes on him, for he then turned their direction and smiled briefly at Sigrid in recognition. Just in time for the ball to be kicked to the back of his head. 

He rubbed his skull and turned to the children in mock anger. He tried to hide his smile but failed and chased the little one who kicked the ball until the others came to their friend's aide and climbed all over him. 

He went down in laughter as the children piled above him.

Lae-Lae tilted her head, "The children seem to love him."

"As if children are excellent judges of character,” Frona huffed.

Mina, "They're not?"

Frona, "Little fools, they can be easily manipulated."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always encouraged <3


	5. Dimitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Different Point Of View.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on folks, chapter six will be a doozy.
> 
> Hi, please like my son. His name is Dimitri and he just wants help.
> 
> Enjoy :)

DIMITRI

Nothing was the same after the day he thought he lost his mother. She was found in one piece yet returned not entirely whole. He hopes his sisters are young enough that they won’t remember. Those beasts had taken his mother; his sisters were innocents, it would be unfair to their hearts to carry the pain of what they’d experience.

Dimitri and his father, George, remained home to work. His mother and sisters were in town to sell their embroideries. His brother Eleon, who was just three, spent the day at his grandmother’s. After a long days work of herding, feeding and cleaning after cattle the father and son went inside the main house to wash before supper.

It was odd of his mother not to return before sunset. His father assured him not to worry, his mother’s likely been delayed. But then the sky was dark.

Dimitri and his father road around the neighborhood asking for his mother and twin six year old sisters. No one had seen Gaia or her daughters, Diane and Dottie.

They rode into town square. The shops have all packed up and gone home.

He felt increasingly perturbed.

Dimitri spotted a white scarf swaying snake-like on the ground in the drifting wind.

It was Dottie’s. The patterned yellow rosettes were of her original design. He further investigated the surrounding area and noticed signs of a clear struggle. The scuffled tracks weren’t those of a busy street, a potted plant had cracked open, beams of wood from a table stand were now snapped sticks and wood chips.

His heart dropped. Something had gone very wrong.

“Papa!” His voice cracked as he yelled. He was only eleven, it has yet to mature.

Dimitri doesn’t remember explaining anything him, only feeling the warm sensation of being held firmly against his father’s chest. George called on the local guards policing the area. They were told to go home and rest after being questioned. They were also told to wait in case they arrive at the house.

He felt numb waking the next morning.

There was pounding at the door. It was one of their neighbors, Agatha who was friendly enough, she lived alone with her cats. She was yelling in her thick mountain accent. She had the girls, the twins are okay.

Though his eyes burned, he cried when the two younglings ran into his arms.

But where was his mother?

“The boogie men took her, they tried to take us but they took mama,” the twins spoke over each other almost in unison. He hugged them tighter.

George had put off chores the rest of the day. Wasn’t until mid-afternoon that a carriage arrived. The soldiers returned his mother.

Dimitri was the first to hold her in his arms but she did not reciprocate. He looked at her battered face and nearly flinched at its hollowed expression.

His father palmed her cheeks and cooed endearments at her. George searched her eyes and look of horror flashed across his face. He tucked her close and whispered something in her ear. Only then did she let herself break down.

It was slavers. They had attempted to take his sisters and failed. Mother had fought them off but she was outnumbered. Dimitri was old enough to guess though she never said anything out loud, not even to his father. It makes him sick to think about what would’ve happened had they taken his sisters. Slavery was illegal in Artes, has been since he was born, but they were close enough to Patras to frequent smugglers.

His mother became more of a homebody and was less social. She still played cards and drank tea with her friends when they’d call upon her at home. Agatha, with the aide of her nephew, Bianor, would set up shop for his mother and gave her the profits.

She slowly went mad. He knew it was because of the constant stress and paranoia. At night his father wept when he thought everyone asleep.

His friends made fun of him, but they didn’t know the pain of her suffering before she spiraled.

He lost his first sweetheart in Penelope, but she wasn’t his true love. Nothing but an exchange of flowers and stolen kisses under the troll bridge between them. He didn’t feel her loss.

Dimitri had taken to selling rope he made from the agave plants that grew on the mountainside. One of the soldiers who returned his mother recognized him and thought it polite to check in. He apologized once Dimitri shared his burdens though the soldier had done nothing wrong.

The soldier gazed him assessingly, “You look to be a strong and abled boy, have you thought of joining the service?”

“In all honesty, no sir.”

He thought he’d marry Penelope, take over his father’s ranch and that’d be his life.

But as a soldier, you travel the world and serve your country. Artes was a champion for the poor and helpless, he would thrive in its service. He could stop those smuggling scums.

That was how he found himself packing his effects and headed north to train and serve under a minor lord at the age of thirteen. His father embraced him and wished him well. George had gifted his son a pendant of amber with a leaf of ivy trapped inside. A symbol of the daimona of protection, Sorteria. His mother was too out of sorts to react to anything. He still kissed her cheek before leaving her to paint alone on her porch.

The sight of his sisters crying was nearly enough to make him change his mind. His brother cried whenever he left the house regardless.

He crouched down to their level, “I’ll send you toys from wherever I go.” He wiped their tears. It was the only way to send word he was alive, neither of them could read or write.

“Goodbye, everyone.”

Varenne was cold. Far colder than his mountain home bordering all three kingdoms, which had pleasant enough climate before flooding season. The physical exertion and single-mindedness of training drills were in a way, therapeutic. You didn’t think, you only followed orders. His routine was similar to rising early for his chores at his family’s ranch. He became fast friends with his linemates, Anders and Teuvo. He found easy comradery with those in his troupe. They were trained under the ideals of brotherhood and worked together as a single unit.

Lord Lecalvier resided in a charming chateau surrounded by the natural beauty of the great northern forests. He was middle-aged and many of his children had been married off save for his eldest son, Theodore and his youngest daughter, Madeleine. It was a rarity for a soldier of low rank such as himself to interact with the family so he didn’t see much of them outside the Lord’s personal inspections during those first two years.

There were few occasions where the Lord would extend his lavish hospitality towards his soldiers. The Winter Ball was the most grandeur of them all. The soldiers were ordered to dress in their best attire and to attend a feast in the hall and a dance in the ballroom. The host family actually dined with them. It’s how they all learned table etiquette. The dance was a splendid affair, even the house servants participated in. He took a turn with a kitchen girl to a lively tune, but most of the night he, Anders, and Teuvo made fools of themselves together.

He stepped into the hall to steady himself with a drink of water.

“Do you like her?”

He jumped and wet his coat jacket. It was Miss Madeleine. She was quite pretty in her blood red ball gown with her honey brown hair in ringlets. He smiled remembering his sisters back home. He hopes he doesn’t have to fight off suitors anytime soon.

He bowed, “Good evening, miss.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it.”

“Marie, the blonde kitchen girl that you danced with, do you like her?”

He was confused as to why she’d inquire after such a thing. He shrugs, “Sure, she’s pleasant enough.”

Her lip curled in distaste, “What is your name, soldier?”

“Dimitri.”

“Would you like a dance?”

At first, he wasn’t sure how to answer. He was certain the Lord wouldn’t want his soldiers waltzing with his daughter.

“I’m afraid I’ve danced myself dizzy. I regret to have to decline, miss.”

She pouted, “If you don’t find me pretty, just say so.”

“You’re very pretty, I just don’t want to vomit on such a lovely gown,” he tried the grin he’d use on shop ladies at the market square to give him sweetmeats.

She blushed, “You are dismissed.”

His friends had spotted him talking with Miss Madeleine and he was quick to make clear that he had not been flirting with a girl so close in age with his sisters, she was a child in his eyes.

The next day, Dimitri had been promoted. He was now on patrol and had to report back to the main house at the end of his shift. He coincidentally always ran into Miss Madeleine. She feigned shock whenever they saw each other even though she should’ve noticed his schedule had him at the same place, at the same time, each day.

Dimitri was going about his rounds when he was ordered to inspect the south gate. Nothing looked amiss, he began to walk back to his daily route when he heard hollering followed by the quick patter of small feet.

“Soldat! Monsieur soldat! Aidez-moi!”

He frowned at the thick Veretian, the mountain dialect he grew up with was a hybrid of Akeilon and the old Artesian language with some Vaskian slang. He got the gist of what most people asked of him.

_Soldier! Mister soldier! Help me!_

This village boy of about seven was asking for his help. He knelt on one knee, “Young gamin, what is wrong?”

The little boy was dirty and had dry scrapes on his elbows, his toes were cut and blistered from the lack of shoes, other than that he looked to be fine.

He placed his cupped palms forward. It was a bird. No more than a week old and in rough shape. He took the fletching into his hands, “What happened?”

The boy was very animate in his storytelling, waving his hands to the tall pines beyond them. The little one took a tumble from his nest without a mother in sight. Dimitri felt terrible. He asked the little boy if he’d like help in burying him.

“Non, no! Il vivre!” He sounded off through his hiccuping sobs.

_No, no! He lives!_

He felt his brows furrow in confusion, “What?”

He looked closely. His fluffy feathered chest rose and fell shakily. He couldn’t believe it, the bird was alive. Judging by the curve of its beak and the height of his nest, this was a falcon.

“Promets-moi que tu l'aideras!” And then the boy said more firmly, “Promise me, you will save baby bird.”He held up one palm and crossed his heart with the other.

Dimitri held up his free hand and attempted to cross the bird over his heart, “Je promet.”

The boy wiped his tears and smiled. The power of the boy ramming his small body into his legs for a tight hug nearly knocked him over. Dimitri smiled softly at the little boy scampering off to his village.

He looked to his hands when he heard a feeble squawk.

“Fuck.”

After getting Anders to cover his shift he ran to the gardens. He knew he’d find Miss Madeleine lounging on a bench reading her romance novels.

She jumped at his intrusion and sat straight, posturing her chest out. She fixed her hair and gathered herself, “Dimitri, to what do I owe-”

“I’m sorry to bother you miss, but-”

“Oh,” her expression softened. She gathered her skirts and drew near to gently stroke the birds back.

“I know nothing of the care of birds. Your father’s library wouldn’t happen to have books on falcons, would it?”

She met his eyes and was hesitant.

He further prompted, “Please, Miss Madeleine?”

Her resolve vanished in an instant. She spurred into action.

“Come with me.”

She dragged him by the hand through a maze of hallways till they reached the Lord Lecalvier’s personal library. She placed a velvet cushion on one of the chaises. “Sit here, Dimitri.”

He obeyed. While she moved about the room in frantic search of nature books, Dimitri took another look at the bird.

“Miss Madeleine? I think he’s hungry, could I trouble you to send for some milk and bread? It should be soft enough for him to eat.”

Madeleine slammed a stack of books on the table and rang a servant for milk and bread. She untied her sash and bundled it into a silk nest, “Place your bird here, he’ll feel safe and warm.”

A servant arrived with a tray, it was Marie from the kitchens. She smiled at Dimitri before Madeleine draped an arm across his shoulder. “Leave us,” she ordered.

The books Madeleine had provided would have been very educational, if only he knew how to read. He studiously observed and analyzed each illustration and listened intently for every factoid Madeleine read aloud. He didn’t know how long they’d been cooped up in the library before Lord Lecalvier discovered them.

He took one look at his young daughter in close proximity with a soldier stripped of his armor (metal plates and chainmail was not made for lounging) and just about lost his head.

“Papa, I can explain! Dimitri was just-“

“Dimitri! On first name basis already? My they must run through courtships in your region, don’t they boy?”

Dimitri couldn't make himself speak. He simply sat there, mouth shut.

“Not very bright, is he? Oh, but what lovely eyes. They might rival those of Lord Berenger’s pet,” he spat the last word out.

“Papa, you’re being very rude!”

Lord Lecalvier was about to go off again before weak little yips called on everyone’s attention.

“A bird?”

“That is what I was trying to tell you! Dimitri is trying to save its life.”

The Lord thought to himself quietly and assessed the room. He saw the open book in Dimitri’s lap, took one look at his helpless expression and laughed, “Stupid boy, do you even know how to read?”

He shook his head no.

The Lord sat with them and excused Dimitri from his duties for the rest of the day to help his research. The other soldiers were absolutely seething with jealousy after he was again promoted to be Miss Madeleine’s personal guard. Since this was Vere, the two were chaperoned by Lydia, Madeleine’s nanny. He learned so much accompanying his lady to her lessons, it opened his eyes to the world around him.

As for the bird, he had taken to calling him, Xerxes. After an ancient King who built monuments in every city he conquered. Xerxes grew strong and lean, built for speed. He was relatively tame until his blinders were removed. The Lord was generous enough to commission custom handlers gear which included a gauntlet, a lure, bird blinders and a tether. All premium leather.

Dimitri found himself constantly expressing his gratitude to his Lord when he snapped, “Gods! Will you quit thanking me? Why don’t you find a better use that bird since you refuse to set it free into the wild.”

The Lord didn’t like the idea that Dimitri kept a useless pet. Xerxes stayed in the barracks with the rest of the soldiers and slept in an open wooden crate by his bunk. His peers were fond of his bird who was like a mascot of sorts, he was very popular on hunting trips. Each morning Dimitri would set him free and by the end of his shift, he’d lure him back with a river trout. He fixated on what the Lord had ordered him and pored over his books.

The estate had acres of surrounding farmland where gardeners grew a variety of greens and not to mention the rows of apple trees. Wild rodents were attracted to these fertile areas. Falcons can be trained to fly overhead and hunt down any varmint they spot with their enhanced vision, so long as their handler was there to control them. Which meant Dimitri could no longer accompany Miss Madeleine.

She slapped him across the face, “You chose a bird over me?”

“I don’t want to lose him! Claude will make an excellent guard, you needn’t worry m’lady.”

She closed her eyes and took a steady breath. When she opened them again, “I’m in love with you, you idiot. How can you be so oblivious? Just last week I read you a poem!”

“I thought you were making fun of me.”

He took leave while she screamed into her pillow. In his defense, she kept comparing him to apples.

Dimitri had his suspicions when their study sessions became picnicking in the gardens and always stealing him away for a ride in the meadows. He honestly thought she was only interested in playing with Xerxes. He held some affection for her as one would their kid sister.

A month later, he and Xerxes were sent south to Ithisma where he met Thelassos, an impressive young warrior and the first man he’d ever taken. He was a very enthusiastic bedmate. Thelassos was the one who pushed him to compete and climb the ranks. The skimpy leather skirts and breathable cotton chitons were a welcome change in the scorching humidity.

He was soon serving guard at a vacation home for Seleukos, the Kyros of the island state, where he had a brief encounter with his Kings.

Dimitri had heard tales, as everyone did, of their legendary affair. Witnessing a love like theirs in person was nothing even the great playwrights or poets could ever depict into song. It reminded him of his parents' affection to one another other, of the simple joy they took in each others company. It also made him feel lonely. What he had with Thelassos was nothing more than two friends taking pleasure in each other's bodies, not love.

The closest he’d gotten to the Kings was when he was ordered to ride with them after a meeting along with two seasoned veterans of the royal guard to the waterfalls. He and Thelassos had a fright when the two seemed to have vanished, but no, there they were clinging to each other under the fall of the water sans clothing.

The Crown Prince joined his fathers at the Kyros palace, he was a jittery, and charming mess. Prince Leandré was young and inherited the same handsome features as his father, Damianos-Exalted. There were murmurings he was a weakling, "puny prince" they’d say, but perhaps the village ladies prayers had all worked for he looked to be fine muscled and tall. One instance, the prince had challenged Thelassos to a wrestling match. He won but it was a near thing and his nose bled all over Thelassos when his strength was exhausted. A medic hustled him inside after they shook hands.

“Dima! Help!” It was Thelassos running towards him with a large hare. “I think he’s injured.”

Dimitri sighed, “For fuck's sake, Thelassos. I deal with birds, not bunny rabbits.”

The rabbit’s foot looked to be rotting off, it was disgusting.

“Poor little guy, we’re gonna have to cut it off. Unless you’d rather we put him down?”

Thelassos was horrified, “Chop it off and bind it, dammit.”

The rabbit didn’t even squeal. Just as they were binding his foot to stop the bleeding, the Crown Prince stumbled upon them, “What happened to this fluffy fellow?”

He wore his circlet and a tangerine silk chiton, the fabric was soft when it brushed against him. “His foot needed to be amputated lest the infection spread to his body, Your Highness.”

He bowed and the prince laughed, “Well since you saved him I assume you aren’t going to eat him. What are you going to do with it?”

Thelassos hadn’t thought that far, “I don’t know, Your Grace.”

“Does it have a name?”

Dimitri thought quickly, “Philoctetes, Your Grace.”

He smirked, “After the famed hero who’s foot rotted off during the Great War. Clever.” He leaned over and scratched behind the rabbit’s ears. “I’ll take him off your hands.”

He dined with the Kyros and the royal family on the eve of their departure. He sat twenty chairs down at the far end of the dinner table. The selected warriors at his end of the table went on about the Battle of Germaine, just three years had passed since some bastard cousin of the prince had tried for the throne. They spoke of Damianos-Exalted’s daughters, and how beautiful they’ve grown to be. How swiftly they moved and how skilled they were with a sword.

Not long after the royal family’s visit were he and Xerxes sent to Delpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's. About. To. Go. Down.


	6. The Okton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story can finally start to pick up its pace. Sorry if I've lost you during this extensive setup. But be patient! Protective Lamen parents are ahead.
> 
> Apologies if it's formatted weird, I just copied and pasted.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  


“Presenting Princess Alesia of Patras.”

 

The city streets outside the gates were filled with waves of people. They came in droves to see their future queen. As soon as she stepped out her gold lined carriage, the crowds roared with approval.

 

She was beautiful. Her pale hair not quite as gold as Laurent’s, more like wheat, was entwined with over a dozen yellow diamonds. It matched the jewels stitched across her yellow skirts and turquoise shoulder wrap. The skin that was exposed, glistened in the sunlight. Her hazel eyes lined tastefully with black coal, were bewitching.

 

And there goes her brother, stumbling onto the platform to meet his future bride. He was covered head to toe, save for his bare arms, in a deep royal purple that shoned almost blue in the sunlight. His matching cape stitched with patterns of intricate gold swirls, was clipped at his shoulder with the gold lion pin father had given him at sixteen. His gold imitation laurels illuminated like a halo around his dark curls. It’s shine only rivaled the brightness of his smile when he met the eyes of his princess. 

 

The two bowed before each other before joining arms for introductions. 

 

First were the Kings, who knew her well from the winters they’ve spent hosting her and greeted her with both familiarity and ceremony. 

 

Following, were his sisters. One by one, a quick bow and a few hello’s. 

 

Princess Alesia was as shy her position would let her. Yet each time she met eyes with Leandré there were hints of a vivacious personality. 

 

Sigrid curtseed when they stood before her and voiced her own approval to her brother. The rest of the nobility were to wait until later in the evening to present themselves at dinner.  

 

Mina and Alesia hit it off immediately, as His Majesty predicted. Apparently the Patran princess was a fan of her numerous published works in the field of ethology. Her observations of nature and the behaviour of animals in the wild have captivated many readers. Princess Alesia had a particular fondness for wild cats, big and small.

 

She stuck by Leandré’s side mostly. They were a darling couple. Everyone fawned over their public displays of affection. Both parties were equally smitten, it would seem. 

 

Later that evening, Sigrid was seated beside Nikandros and his family. Most of the guests had arrived, they were just waiting for the Kings and the young couple.

 

Lady Kenna was engaging with her husband. They spoke of the princess’ journey and the maintenance required to sustain frequently traveled roads that were vital for trade. It was all very dull yet they spoke with conviction.

 

“I hear her kitty was unable to travel with her."

 

"Was it being difficult?" Asked Nikandros.

 

"Darling, it's a fully grown tiger. I do hope we're prepared to have that beast prowling the palace gardens. Tell the crown prince to hide his rabbit."

 

“I wouldn’t worry about little Phil, he has Alek to guard him.”

 

“And what a fierce protector is he. Nearly gnawed my thumb off when I tried to give Phil a radish,” said Orthaeus, Nikandros’ eldest son at sixteen. He was a natural athlete, highly skilled in the discipline of Pankration, a fighting style introduced by the famed heroes, Heracles and Theseus. Heracles had used it to defeat the dreaded Nemean lion and Theseus to defeat the Minotaur. All myths of course, great tales nonetheless. 

 

Numa was his youngest at age ten. A sweet little thing who still hid behind his mother’s skirts. He was an excellent foot racer at the top of his age group.

 

Calla, his only daughter, was just fourteen. She’s inherited most of her mother’s charms and her father’s perceptiveness. She had a passion for spectating equestrian games.

 

Nikandros had been referring to the guard dog  Leandré had trained specifically to protect his bunny while he frolicked in the gardens. 

 

Lady Kenna had called to Sigrid’s attention, “Siggy, you wouldn’t happen to know when the Halvik and her retinue will be arriving?”

 

“Soon. I think.” 

 

Hele has yet to hear word from her since Illion. She was certain Halvik would be in company with their mother’s, Kashel, Rona, Hilde, and Vigdis. It’s the first visit from their mothers to the palace since the initial meetings. Because of the uniqueness in their upbringing, all their mothers had bonded into a sisterhood of sorts. 

 

Kenna smiled playfully, “I heard rumors of a gift they’ll be presenting.”

 

Since  Leandré was of Vaskian lineage, she was certain Halvik will present him and his bride with the ceremonial sword and sheath.

 

“It’s a lame tradition, nothing to take note of.”

 

“I meant the gift that is to be presented to the Kings.”

 

“I was completely unaware of this.”

 

Nik hummed and took a sip of his wine, “I hope it’s nothing to ignominious for Exalted to accept.”

 

Horns blared for the arrival of the Kings, and all had risen from their seats. The young couple followed ten paces behind. A herald had announced their names and titles and the feast had commenced following a joint and rousing speech from His Majesty Laurent and Damianos-Exalted expressing the pride they felt in all their children and how they wished for their son’s union to be as happy and fruitful as theirs. 

 

The room applauded in approval. Prince Torveld clapped and smiled for his niece as well. He was seated beside her, having been one of the few family members who had joined the Princess. Accompanying him was Erasmus, his long time companion. Though they were slave and master, Erasmus was granted many privileges, such as having a lover of his own in Kallias, a former slave and current palace healer. It wasn’t a peculiar dynamic. With this marriage slavery will soon be eradicated in Patras anyway.

 

Every now and then some nobleman would break from feasting and make a toast to the Kings, to the couple, and to the future of the kingdom. 

 

Leandré took it all with grace and courtesy to his subjects. Alesia only had eyes for her prince.They were almost infuriatingly cute with their hush tones and blushes, the random bursts of giggles. Sigrid reveled in their joint happiness, it was a lot like witnessing her fathers interact.

 

The trumpeteers sounded off again, interrupting a lovely kithara ballad. 

 

The delegates from Vask have arrived.

 

Both Kings stood to greet her. Laurent spoke first, “Halvik, welcome to our home. So glad you were able to join our celebrations.”

 

They clasped each other’s forearms, as leaders often greeted each other. 

 

“It has been many moons since our native son was left in your care. Lejon has grown strong. We are pleased with this union.” She broke off in Vaskian and asked Kashel, Mina’s mother, to bring forth the gift.

 

She held in her hands a jug. Kashel share a smile with Damen when she handed him the jug. He thanked her in rough Vaskian and looked to Laurent, “What is it?”

 

Laurent read a small note and bit off a grin. “It would appear that we are nearly at the age in which a man’s virility starts to wane. It’s a thoughtful gift, really.”

 

Her father looked affronted,“What does a jug have to-.” He unstoppered the jug and sniffed its entrance. Then it dawned on him. The complexion of his cheeks darkened, “Hakesh.”

 

Lady Kenna cackled as Nik felt his friend’s embarrassment secondhand and smiled at his wife’s outburst. 

 

Halvik nodded, “Now where is the young buck?”

 

Laurent smiled his son’s direction, “Lost in the clouds of his infatuation.”

 

Leandré was leaning on his fist on the table, listening intently to the banter between Alesia and Mina. Hele walked by and thumped his forehead. He looked miffed till she nodded Halvik’s way. 

 

He smiled boyishly, “Halvik!” He stood to sprint over before jerking back and tugging Alesia up out her seat. He dragged her over by the hand to meet the elder klan leader who he owed his life to.

 

“Lejon,” she embraced him and clapped his shoulder. “You bloomed as sturdy as a white oak tree. You’ll serve your woman well.” 

 

The Prince was relieved his to be bride had zero understanding of his native tongue. His smile was a bit strained, he continued in Veretian, “Halvik, may present Princess Alesia of Patras.” He stood back and nudged Alesia forward, “My dear, I owe my life to this woman.”

 

Halvik squinted her eyes and searched the girl’s form, “Her form is well balanced and her hips are wide, she’ll birth many children,” then she frowned, “Her arms are skinny.”

 

Alesia, the poor girl, just continued smiling. She hadn’t understood a word that was uttered. The Prince tried again, “She tames beasts. She owns tigers and leopards who follow her around like wolf pups.”

 

At last, Halvik looked impressed, “Girl, why do you not speak for yourself.”

 

“My apologies, ma’am. I was never instructed in your tongue.”

 

“The fault lies with Lejon for not sharing his heritage. I will be pleased to see this ‘beast taming’ in person.”

 

She nodded eagerly, “Oh, yes. As soon as Calliope arrives.”

 

The rest of the night Halvik spoke mostly with Hele, and her mother, Hilde. They likely discussed Hele’s future role as Vask’s ambassador to Artes. It is a natural fit for her, Sigrid knew she’d do well. Rona and Vigdis ate with Frona and Laetitia. 

 

Sigrid retired early that evening. Tomorrow were the games.

  
  


She had risen early and foregoned the family breakfast. Her sisters were decorated athletes, but this year they were more focused on celebrating than competing. Hele had come close towards championing the okton in previous years but failed. This year she withdrew her participation in the games altogether in favor of choosing a sire for her offspring. 

 

Sigrid was nervous. She tried to tame the molting heat swashing in her belly, threatening bile to move up her throat.

 

Instead she took her red tipped spears, got on her horse and ran circles around the thick oak trees she aimed her throws at.

 

She hadn’t seen her family all day but knew Hele and Adria were seated beside her brother, his bride, and her fathers. Mina should be about finished archery by now. Laeticia and Frona were likely warming up for shortsword and longsword. 

 

Sigrid vomited when she tried to eat something of substance between breaks. 

 

Javelin was a swift victory. 

 

Her spear was the first to land the marked sector. Mina had given her advice for optimal flight speed on her launch angle. She was right. 

 

Sigrid found herself unable to enjoy receiving laurels from her fathers. Their faces gleamed with pride, but she was too focused on her next event. 

 

She found a moments peace as the field was being prepared for the Okton. 

 

She's yet to settle her nerves. Her heart is racing. She felt the urge to run. To sprint across the fields till she's exhausted the anxiety from her body. 

 

But the competition was about to begin. She knows she won't win yet still feels a pang of disappointment at the acceptance. There's no shame in a loss. So long as she plays fair and with great effort. But what was the point in putting forth an effort if you're only to lose? A poor showing on her part wouldn't reflect well on her family, or her tribe. Still, she's never cared for what others thought; she was loved by the right people. 

 

Sigrid entered the tent full of armor and equipment to start strapping her gear. 

 

She wasn't alone. 

 

There was a clang of medal as the young man realized who'd entered the tent with him. He gave a short bow, “Good day, madam.”

 

He was polishing a helmet and sword on one of the wooden tables. 

 

“And here I thought you were just a bird boy. Did you lie about competing in falconry?”

 

Dimitri stammered, “No! No. This is- I'm helping a friend of mine who's competing in long sword.” 

 

She looked over his shoulder, “I see you followed my advice and changed your shirt since our last meeting. No bird stool.”

 

He smiled, “Any request from you is to be taken as a direct order, your highness.” He stood to attention.

 

“Oh Gods, don't do that,” she laughed. “As you were soldier.”

 

Dimitri returned his attention to his task with a private smile of his own, as if pleased with something.

 

The two worked in silence before Sigrid interrupted, “So, how did you fair?”

 

His head jerked up, “Pardon?”

 

“The falconry. How did it go?”

 

He relaxed, “Uh, good. We passed the preliminary rounds.” Dimitri had finished with the helmet. It was polished so smooth, she could see the green of his eyes reflecting back at him.

 

“You're good at that.”

 

“Falconry? I should hope so, I've been competing for some time.”

 

“I meant shining your ironwear.”

 

“Oh. Would you like some assistance, ma’am?”

 

She clutched her leathers closer, “No, thank you.”

 

He nodded and proceeded to sharpen the sword  blade with a wet stone.

 

The trumpeteers sounded, the Okton will begin shortly. 

 

“Fuck me,” she hastened the speed at which she was tying her strap buckles. She gathered her things and moved towards the exit.

 

“I guess it’s only fair that I should wish you luck as well.” 

 

She paused. Sigrid inhaled and puffed her chest full of false cocksure air. “Thanks, I don’t need it,” with a flip of her hair, she left the tent.

  
  


“So glad you could make it, sister dear. I thought we'd start without you.”

 

Leandré was mounted atop Peggy, his black Friesian steed, waiting for her to join him. Other participants included, Thelassos of Ithisma, Rhexanor of Sicyon, Martin of Chasteigne, Xanthos of Kesus and Otomars, the sole Patran participant. All men. 

 

The number of female participants in the ceremonial games had increased since the annual visits by the Vaskian retinue, but only Hele and Sigrid have performed in the Okton. 

 

“Ready to lose, brother?”

 

With a shake of his shoulders, “You know I am.”

 

And so it began.

 

At the first throw the audience cried in anticipation and followed with a hush, like a receding wave. 

 

Leandré’s gold tipped spear pierced through it’s first target, nearly missing its mark. 

 

Sigrid’s was a bullseye, right at the center.

 

The first target of the Okton was the easiest. None of the other riders had missed. 

 

As they circled around the second target at a matched pace, the Crown Prince’s second spear impacted perfectly in the middle. Naturally, spectators cheered.

 

When Sigrid’s speartip stabbed against the Prince’s causing a sharp clang of metal, almost wedging the first spear out of the hacked wood, the crowd just about lost their minds.

 

A misstep by Martin caused Xanthos to falter and miss his mark, spear thankfully landing in the grass, and collide with Ottomars. The two hurriedly left the ring to avoid getting trampled by the prince.

 

Brother and sister completed another figure eight side-by-side and picked up their spears for the third target. Thelassos, Rhexanor, and Martin had to hasten their pace to narrow the gap between them.

 

Leandré’s shot flew and stuck it’s landing where it sliced the edge of the target circle.

 

“Technically a hit!” he laughed and continued riding.

The audience laughed too. They truly adored him like a son.

 

With a labored grunt, Sigrid launched her third spear. Another perfect hit.

 

Somehow Rhexanor was too far off and unwisely threw his spear. It missed the target entirely and was headed straight for the butt end of Martin’s horse. The Prince sped forward and deflected it up with his fourth spear. The sudden movement was enough to spook Martin’s horse into kicking the Prince’s horse with it’s hind legs. 

 

The crowd gasped in horror when Peggy stood on her hind legs and bucked the Prince off her back. Martin’s horse also divested itself of its rider and the two horses fled from danger. 

 

Martin hurried over to aid his Prince and they limped off the tracks into the care of the palace medics. 

 

Leandré waved to the stands, “I’m all right! Don’t look so melancholic.”

 

Thelassos looked plagued guilty and voiced his apologies to the Prince.

 

She was all alone on the wrecked course. Sigrid was increasingly becoming aware of the eyes following her every move. She had their full attention. A spike of panic shot up her chest. 

 

Her horse leapt over a discarded barrel just as she drew near her launching point, she had no choice but to pull back her arm and release. The blood pounding to her ears deafened all other noise. She held her breath watching her spear soar through the sky and reach its peak before its descent. She began to feel lightheaded.

 

When hooves beated against the ground, the spear found its home and penetrated the center circle. 

 

She exhaled and the roaring of the crowd returned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we meet the suitors ;)

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, there is a brother. Was he necessary? Probably not.


End file.
